The raging, destructive thunderstorm is long gone by morning, replaced by a colorful sunrise that parts the remains of the billowy clouds.

My eyes feast on the man sprawled out along the mattress, unclothed and peaceful in sleep. Somehow I'm awake before him, despite my restless night. And despite the unease I knew I'd wake up with, I'm relieved I slept the rest of the night dream-free. Dressed and showered, I shut the door to the apartment, wanting to witness the sunrise on my last day in Italy.

I seclude myself in the corner of Maria's terrace and sit at one of her swinging benches. The sun burns my eyes as it ascends from the farthest end of the healthy hills. The sky is a mixture of various pinks and oranges, with a hint of baby blue.

I let myself take in the moment, closing my eyes, wanting to soak up and remember this week. Every detail, even last night. I won't let it cloud what was otherwise a life-changing week of my life, one I'll remember with fondness.

I'm lucky to have met these people. To have escaped reality for just a little while. To have found a way to trust Giovanni again. I never thought I would let him back in this soon, and yet, just as easy as before, he's secured himself once again as the most important part of my life.

I won't even bring myself to think he'd leave again. I can't.

I hear a door open and turn to the sound. Maria exits, her hands full of plates and silver wear. My serene moment gone, I jump out of my seat to help her before they come crashing down.

"I saw you out here and got inspired. Let's have breakfast on the terrace. What do you think?"

"That sounds good. Can I help you with anything?"

She nods, roping her arm around my waist. Together, we gather all the trays of food and drinks, transporting them from the dining table to the terrace. By the time we're done arranging, Luca and Marco have entered the porch, following the smell of the food. I arrange the vase of sunflowers, surprised when two little girls run out of the doors, squealing. When Luca berates them quietly, I realize they are his daughters.

Maria takes the time to serve everyone, despite our reluctance. She scoops the freshly cut fruit salad into a wooden spoon and deposits them onto my plate.

"How are you this morning, sweet one?" she asks me, quiet enough for the chatty other side of the table to not hear. "You look brighter."

"I'm sad to be leaving," I press my hands to my warm cheeks," I love it here."

"Well, you're always welcome."

I smile warmly and look down at my hands, which toy with the floral print on the skirt of my dress.

"Giovanni is a late sleeper, huh?"

I shake my head. "Not usually. He had a late night, though, so I figured the sleep would be good."

Marco smirks long enough for Maria to notice and slap the back of his head. I giggle with the girls.

"You should hide your jealousy a little better, brother. It's embarrassing."

"Oh, shut up."

"Shut up!" one of the girls screeches with laughter.

"Look what you did," Luca grumbles to his brother, leaning down to whisper sternly to her. The other one wiggles out of her seat excitedly.

"Where are you going?" Maria says, watching her run down the steps towards the grass. That's when I notice Giovanni, dressed in denim jeans and a white button-up, crossing the pathway to the villa.

"Gio!" The little girl is clearly overjoyed at the sight of him. He's too far to hear what he says to her, but he gasps with a grin as she jumps ungracefully into his grasp. She settles on his arm, talking closely with him as he continues to walk toward us.

I smile softly when he sweetly plants his lips on her cheek and she glows, wrapping her arms around his throat. The sight of him holding a child does far more for me than I would like. My eyes flicker to Maria, feeling her steady gaze, but the minute I realize that she's caught me appreciating the sight of them together, I direct my attention back to my food.

"Luca, I can't believe how much she's grown," Giovanni states when he reaches the stairs, setting her down.

"I know, Gio. There's no controlling it, unfortunately," Luca mumbles as she climbs into her father's lap. Giovanni leans down, pressing his lips to Maria's temple, but his eyes immediately find my own. I feel stronger this morning, prepared for what he and I will face when we arrive back in New York tonight.

I offer him a smile, strangely nervous.

"How are you, my love?" Maria asks him, grabbing onto his hand before he can make his way over to me.

"Fine, Zia. Not ready to go."

"Then stay. Spend a few more days, another week here. You can afford to."

"We both have things we need to get back to," he murmurs kindly and kisses her hand. "But I'll miss you."

She clearly chokes up at that, quickly averting her eyes, and Gio bends to comfort her. The sight is a beautiful one. He whispers to her, inaudible to us, and she laughs, wiping her watery eyes.

He straightens as she growls, trying to gather herself back together, clearly ashamed to have broken down. He walks around the table, ending up behind my chair. I tilt my face to the side as he wraps one arm around my chest and release the breath I didn't know I'd been holding when he pulls me into him. I didn't know I had been fearful he'd still be upset from the events of last night.

"Good morning, baby."

If it were possible to physically glow at words, I would be as bright as this sunrise. My eyes close as he presses soft kisses to my throat intimately before lowering down into the seat next to me. I blush further, finding Maria watching us again, fondly.

"Morning."

I smirk when he steals a piece of fruit from my plate. Not hungry for cantaloupe, I slide the plate towards him.

"Can I get you a plate?" Maria questions, reaching for a clean one from the stack.

"I'll steal from Scarlett," Gio responds warmly. "I actually want to take her out for a bit. Luca, may I take the motorbike?"

"Of course, cugino."

I look at Giovanni with surprise. "We're going somewhere?"

"You'll be back for dinner, though, right? We're having it early so you can make your flight."

"Yes, it won't be long, Zia."

He looks at me, clearly having heard my question but doesn't answer it. I begin to smile, and so does he, infuriatingly.

"You're not going to tell me?"

He shakes his head side to side and takes a bite of bacon. "Nope."

...

The ride through the countryside is invigorating; the gusts of wind that take my breath away, the man who effortlessly does the same, firm beneath my hands as I clutch onto him for dear life while we wind our way through the endless turns to town.

With the motorcycle, it's easy to move between the crowds and tourists, which is no doubt why Giovanni asked for this instead of the car. After leaving the bike with an attendant, we walk.

"Won't we be recognized this way?"

"We're just going in here, so I doubt it."

He stops at the door to a jewelry store, pulling it open and I stop in my tracks, immediately terrified. My eyes flicker from the rings in the window to Giovanni, who smiles wider.

"It's not a ring."

I swallow and relax, inching toward the door with reluctance. I don't tear my eyes away from his, enjoying the gleam I see in his eyes.

"Unless you want it to be."

"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days," I grumble at his grin, entering the store.

"It wouldn't hurt to look."

"Gio."

"Alright, I'll stop." He holds up his arms with a chuckle. A man standing erect at the counter smiles at us with excitement when he realizes who has entered his shop.

"Mr. Martinelli!"

"Ciao, Johnny. Is my order ready?"

"Of course. I'll go fetch it from the back."

"Your order?" I hum suspiciously as he places a hand on my hip, just to have it there.

"Mhm."

"What order?"

"Patience."

"Is it a ring, Giovanni? I swear, if you're about to–"

"You'll know when I'm about to give you a ring, Scarlett. I'm not about to propose to you in a crowded store. I have some class. Not a lot but some."

"Some? You are the definition of class."

He kisses me for that, as I hoped he would.

"I still mean... what I said last night about marriage, Giovanni," I whisper after a moment of silent panic. When I risk a glance to see how upset he is by my words, I'm glad he's only regarding me, emotionless.

"You don't want to be married to me?"

I look at him pointedly. "I don't want to be married to anyone. We're perfectly fine like this. You already know I'm yours."

"I want the proof."

I'm startled by his bluntness, enough to need to look away from his determined gaze.

"When did marriage become such an important topic here?"

"When it became a possibility."

I swallow, looking down at my strappy sandals. "And if I said it wasn't?"

"You won't."

"Oh, is that so?"

"You know I will convince you."

I smile, aggravated. "Is that the word for it? Convince?"

"You know I am not a man easily deterred, Scarlett."

His hand slides up my back, over the thin material of my dress, until his hand surrounds the back of my neck.

"I want to call you mine and mean it. I want you to wake up every morning and look at your ring and then look at me and know that that ring means I'll always be there."

Christ.

His eyes, so hauntingly dark, hold my gaze with no urge to let go.

I'm thankful when the man reappears, approaching the desk with a visible wariness to disrupt the moment Giovanni's created.

"Giovanni, he's back," I whisper, also entranced.

"I could come back?" I see him begin to back up out of the corner of my eye, but Giovanni shakes his head, releasing me from his bonds.

"I'm sorry, my friend. The order?"

He holds out a rectangular crimson-colored jewelry box to Giovanni. Giovanni takes it and opens the top, just enough that I cannot see the contents. He nods, setting it down on the glass counter so he can reach into his pocket.

I watch him pay, my mind running wild by his words.

"We do hope you will see us again, Mr. Martinelli."

"It's beautiful work. I will be back. Thank you, Johnny."

"Ciao."

I smile at the man when he nods at me. "Ciao," I whisper as Giovanni wraps his arm around my shoulders while we turn, pressing his lips to my hair.

The day douses us in rays of sunlight as we walk through the town back towards the motorbike.

"Do you want to shop? Look around? Are you hungry? We don't have to leave right away."

I lean into his hard frame, contented. "I kind of just want to go back to spend some time with Maria and everyone some more before we go... if that's okay with you."

He beams down at me, brightening. "I'm glad you like them. They like you too."

"You think? Still?"

"Still."

I wrap my arms around his waist, smirking. "When are you going to give me that?"

He laughs, full-bodied, when my brows wiggle with intrigue. "I thought I'd wait until we got back ,but honestly, the excited look on your face now is hard to pass up."

We're by the bike now. He shuffles to a stop, letting me go to reach into his back pocket. He sits on the seat, taking a quick look at the box before extending his hand out. I take it, peering at him somewhat nervously.

"I don't know how you'll feel about it. I just... thought it felt like us."

Us.

With a tick of apprehension seizing control of my heart, I open the lid, finding a locket inside, surrounded by white satin. I lift it from the box, smiling at Giovanni.

"It's beautiful."

On the front, engraved in a gentle, steady hand, rest an S and a G, laid over one another. He takes the box from me, placing it on the seat beside him.

"Look inside."

I click open the locket, pulling it open. I notice delicate words in cursive engraved into the silver.

When I put the words together in my brain, reading them silently, my blood begins to slow, my heart lurches and restarts in an unhealthy loop.

"I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be."

It's from Great Expectations, one of my favorite lines in the novel.

I don't even realize the moment when the words sink in, causing my entire body to begin to tremble, overwhelmed by the force that is the man I love. I look up at him, almost accusing, almost fearful, knowing he's buried himself deeper into my thick skin, into my barricaded heart.

He does it constantly, so much that I'm winded, always struggling to remain sane. He's driven me mad.

"Great Expectations," I whisper.

"Your favorite."

I nod, aware he knows the significance of that book in my life. He's seen me read the tattered copy my mother gave me multiple times. I wonder when he read it. If it was before he knew me or after... I wonder if he was curious to know what I loved so much about it.

My lips tug with emotion, unable to be controlled. My thumb traces the light dips of the engraved quote, taking the time to let the phrase sink into my marrow.

"I love you."

I risk a glance at him, and a tear escapes the corner of my eye, cascading over the ridge of my nose.

"Say it again."

A corner of his mouth lifts as he studies my reaction, clearly enjoying it.

I ease toward him with a wariness, holding the locket to my chest. He stares up at me as I plant myself between his legs, inches away from his face.

"Say it," he whispers, his eyes unable to remain still, flickering from one part of my face to another.

"I love you."

Moments pass in utter silence, the world drowned out. The air around us has thickened.

"Tell me you'll think about it."

I swallow. "That's not fair."

"I never promised to play fair." He places his hands on my hips, and they drift up firmly over the curve of my back, marking his territory. "I want you, dammit. I want every goddamn part of you."

"A lot of those parts are still really fucked up, Giovanni," I gasp, my cheek resting against his.

"I don't care. I'll marry myself to them." He pulls one of his hands up between us, grasping my jaw tightly. I look at him, exposed and raw.

"It's so soon. We just got back together–"

His eyes, unclouded and never-ending, bore into mine, his brows furrowing with determination.

"What are you waiting for, Scarlett?"

I gape, so terrified there are no words to speak. My mouth flexes, trying to produce sound. All I can think of is Dixon. The hell of our marriage. The long divorce proceedings. The suffocating weight of a ring on my finger, tying me down legally to a man I didn't even know.

I think of my mother, my father. I think of the day she died, what she said before she exited the front door, ignoring my pleadings for her to stay, to tell him she wouldn't drive with him while he was wasted.

"One day, you'll understand, Scarlett."

The words haunt me every day of my life.

I'll understand what? Love? Marriage? Sacrifice?

Even with the words swirling in my mind, Giovanni's hands on my skin, reassuring and gentle, his eyes that are always searching and cautious, his heart laid out to match mine, somehow begin to sell me on a life wedded to another.

I promised myself I'd never tie myself to anyone like that again.

And yet, the locket in my hands speaks for itself.

"I loved her against reason, against promise..."

He is selfless in his affection, his energy and devotion surging through his touch into my skin. I bask in the knowledge that he's memorizing me as I do him, wanting to snapshot moments in time. Ten fingers, and I'm safe. They are on me, warm and greedy, wanting more but patient enough to wait for it.

I blink as his hand descends from my throat to my chest, his palm pressing to the skin, shielding my delicate heart. No doubt he can feel the war raging within.

"Scarlett."

I close my eyes, both pained and revived by the soft, pleading voice I hear.

I can't think of where we are. Of who can see.

I can't escape him. It's useless. It's pointless.

It's not even what I want.

I imagine a life where my fears become my dreams, eventually drifting fluidly into a reality. A world where Giovanni possesses my life, allowing me to do the same to him, and in that world—I am happy. In that world, we are happy.

In that world, we are one.

My eyes part open with a reluctance, beholding the sight of him inches away, gazing at me as if I were heaven on earth. The wonder that traces his angelic features is hard for me to comprehend. I don't know what has made this man want me this way.

His hands are back at my throat, securing around the nape of my neck. He tilts his head further up, grazing his mouth against mine with a gentle nudge. I respond the same way, wary to actually kiss him.

Our eyes open fully, our breath equally short against each other's lips.

For a split second, I feel suspended in time.

His eyes lock onto mine, vowing without words to never let go. "Marry me, Scarlett."

"Yes," I whisper.